I've Kept My Heart Under Control
by downonyourknees
Summary: Rachel finds herself alone in Puck's dorm room and stumbles across something interesting. Drabble.


It's his own fault that she's left alone in his room. They were supposed to meet here at three o'clock to study, but it is _three eleven_ and he's nowhere to be found. She tries to be annoyed, but after a year of friendship, she's built up a tolerance to his constant lateness. Luckily, his roommate, Greg, lets her in before he leaves for class so she doesn't have to stand out in the hall like last time.

They are definitely meeting in her room from now on.

It's the first time she's been in his room alone and she doesn't know what to do with herself, so she starts tidying up the clutter to busy herself until Noah arrives. (_Not _because it gives her a chance to snoop around in his stuff.)

It's mostly clothing and school-related papers strewn about his room, but there are a few weird, random items that she finds. Among them are an Alicia Keys cd (who she _knew _he liked even though he vehemently denied it because he said she was "for chicks"), an _actual_ rubber chicken and about 20 packages of pop rocks. On his desk is a baseball hat sitting upside down and overflowing with napkins and receipts with phone numbers written on them. She swallows hard when she finds it and ignores the feelings of jealousy that make her stomach turn.

"We're _friends _and nothing more," she reminds herself. And she's just going to ignore the little voice in her head that adds _unfortunately _to the end of her sentence.

After she's organized his desk, she goes to open the drawer to his bedside table, but hesitates at the last second, not sure if she wants to see what he keeps in there. She knows what most people use that drawer for and because he's Noah Puckerman she expects his to be particularly... intriguing.

Curiosity gets the best of her and she slides it open slowly, preparing herself for the worst (figuratively speaking), and gets a surprise when she finds nothing remotely shocking or horrifying. Actually, other than a box of condoms there's nothing sexual in there at all.

She closes the drawer and moves to make the bed, pulling the comforter back, revealing an open book. She picks it up, and her eyes widen when she realizes what it is. Not a book. _A journal. _Brown, faux-leather. It's looking a bit beat up since the first time she saw it sitting on a shelf, smooth and pristine, at her favorite bookstore years ago. She bought it for him for his birthday senior year when she saw the sad, droopy college-lined notebook he kept all of his music in. The smile that he gave her when he opened it felt like the best feeling in the world. That was back when he used to show her his music. Since they started college, he's gotten very private about it. They're almost through with their sophomore year and he's only shared a handful of songs with her, even though this looks like it's almost completely full, loose papers and sticky notes stuffed inside.

She runs her fingers over the open page and considers putting it back, pretending she never saw it. But it's _right there_ in front of her, just begging to be read and really, what could it hurt?

She doesn't give herself a chance to answer that before she's flipping through the weathered pages, reading over his messy scrawl that's become so familiar to her. It doesn't take long for her to wonder why he's been keeping these to himself. His lyrics... they're _amazing_. Her mind is already working out melodies, imagining him on stage, guitar in hand, crooning out his beautiful words.

_'She is the words that I can't find / How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive?' _

God, that's gorgeous. She tries to focus on that, instead of driving herself crazy, wondering who "she" is.

The songs range comfortably in topic, but a nice handful of them are about a girl, and the more Rachel reads, the quicker she finds her initial jealousy slowly turning into something else – something that makes her heart pound, and her breathing speed up. There's something familiar about the words in front of her. Little things he's said to her, or inside jokes between the two of them.

_'I turn my head / I can't shake that look you gave / but I'm good as dead / 'cause oh, those eyes are all it takes.'_

Is he...? He's talking about her.

Right?

She gets a flash of a conversation that they had a few months back, when this little theater that she loves had a special showing of Funny Girl for one day only, and she wasn't being subtle at all about how much she wanted to go, and he laughed and said, "Fuck, Rach, put those eyes away. I'll take you, but if you start singing along during the movie, I swear I'm walking out and leaving you there."

(She sang along to every song, and he just shook his head and smiled the whole time, and after, when they were walking back to his car, he grabbed her hand, kissed her cheek, and said, "You're lucky you sound so fucking good." So it was a pretty great day.)

But maybe that's just a coincidence. Maybe she's just making connections where there are none, and he doesn't want her the way she wants him. And yes, she can admit that she does want him. Badly.

The sound of the door opening sends a bolt of panic through her, and she throws the journal back onto the mound of blankets on the bed as Noah enters the room, books in hand.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. My class ran long. Stupid fucking professor couldn't remember where he put the worksheets that we needed to study for the exam, so we had to sit there for _fifteen_ minutes until he found them."

He stops talking, and Rachel realizes she didn't hear a word he said. She was still turning over his lyrics in her head, trying to figure out what they might mean - trying to figure out if they're about her. And now he's staring at her, and her hands are a little shaky, and her face still feels hot from when she thought she was caught.

"Rach? You okay?"

She clears her throat, plasters on a smile, and even she knows how fake it sounds when she says, "Fine! I was just, uhm... you startled me."

He looks at her like she's freaking him out and let's out a long, "Okay," as he sets his books on his desk. Then he pauses and his eyes sweep around the room. "Did you clean in here?" he asks, sounding like he's holding back a laugh.

"It was messy," she says with a shrug.

He does laugh, then. "You're ridiculous, baby," he says affectionately, like he completely expects her to do something like that, and he's not even annoyed that she was basically looking through his things.

So she kisses him. For a lot of reasons, really. Because she's wanted to for a long time, and because all of his beautiful lyrics are still running through her head. But mostly because he's Noah, and he treats her better than anyone else ever has, and he's sweet and kind when she least expects it, and he pushes her when she needs it, and deals with her when she's pissed off and takes it out on him. And honestly, maybe she's a little in love with him. Maybe she has been for a while.

(But she thinks that's okay, because when she really thinks about it, maybe Noah's been a little in love with her for a while, too.)

"What was that?" he asks when she pulls away. His arms are around her waist, though, keeping her close to him.

"It was me kissing you," she says, and he rolls his eyes and mutters, '_smartass'_ under his breath. She runs her fingers over the short hair on his scalp and then down over his ear, smiling at the sound he lets out. "Did you not want me to?"

He looks at her like she's just asked the stupidest question known to mankind. So she's gonna go ahead and take that as a 'no'.

She isn't entirely surprised when, instead of continuing their conversation, he just slants his mouth back over hers, kissing her hotly until she's practically melting against him. She doesn't even register that they're moving until she's falling back onto his bed, letting out a yelp of pain when she hits it.

"Shit," Noah mutters, looking at her. "You okay?"

She nods, and he reaches under her, pulling the journal out from where it was digging into her back. She freezes, and he must feel it, because he looks at her, then back down to the book in his hand, and something like realization starts to dawn on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts him off before he has the chance.

"I read it," she admits, watching him guiltily. "I know that's an extreme breach of privacy, and I really am so sorry about that, but those songs are fantastic and you should be sharing them, Noah! Like at that bar downtown that we love! You know, we should talk to the owner and see about you performing a set there one night!"

He's kind of just staring at her, which is not ideal, but he's not making any move to get off of her either, so she thinks that's a good sign. He doesn't seem mad, at least.

After a silence that stretches on for far longer than she's comfortable with, he finally speaks. "So... you like them?"

She doesn't really mean to laugh, but she's just so _relieved_ that she can't control it. He's smiling down at her once she's calmed down enough to look at him, and she takes his face in her hands and kisses him softly. "I love them. They're honest, and heartfelt, and _so _beautiful, Noah."

She can tell how much he likes those words by the way he kisses the breath from her, pressing his body against hers like he needs to be closer to her.

She's going to need him to play his songs (which she's now quite certain _are_ about her - she'll get him to admit that later...) for her soon, but knows they'll get around to it eventually. They've got plenty of time.

* * *

**AN:** Hey guys! It's been a while. This was from a prompt at the PR drabble meme from AGES ago that I finally got around to writing. The lyrics (and title) are borrowed from two of my favorite Parachute songs, "Under Control" and "She (For Liz)".


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